Please Don't Let Me Hit The Ground
by consultingpathologist
Summary: The Fall, told by the three people who knew. Set during S2E3.
1. He

The result of listening to one of your favorite songs and thinking about your OTP...

* * *

><p><em>Heaven, a gateway, a hope<em>_  
><em>_Just like a feeling I need, it's no joke__  
><em>_And though it hurts me to see you this way__  
><em>_Betrayed by words, I'd never heard, too hard to say_

_Up, down, turn around__  
><em>_Please don't let me hit the ground__  
><em>_Tonight I think I'll walk alone__  
><em>_I'll find my soul as I go home_

_**New Order - "Temptation"**_

* * *

><p>Of course it was Molly. It was always Molly.<p>

It began to drizzle as he left John behind at Kitty Riley's flat and made the long trek to Bart's. He had no choice but to walk, the police were looking for him. Drawing up his collar to shield the wind, he set off into the night.

The sounds of police sirens echoed through the dark alleyways, but he did not hear them. His mind was only thinking about the pathologist. That day he first met her he knew something was different. All of the other pathologists he had worked with previously had been either incompetent or irritating. There was Caroline, who chattered too much about her ex-boyfriends; Bobby, who constantly second guessed himself leaving Sherlock wondering how he ever got through medical school; Samantha, who wore dark make-up and rarely said anything other than "fuck off"; and various others who barely left an impression and were soon deleted from his memory. Sherlock had begun to wonder if the whole hospital was run by complete morons or if he just had bad luck.

That changed the day he met Molly Hooper.

* * *

><p>Sherlock was bent over a microscope analyzing a soil sample. It was blissfully quiet. He had gotten rid of the annoying lab assistant by sending him on an impossible errand of finding a specific brand of cyanoacrylate that didn't exist.<p>

Just as he had begun to relish his victory, the door swung open. A sigh escaped from his lips. Couldn't these people ever leave him alone?

He looked up without moving his head from its position and saw Mike Stamford stride into the room followed by a young woman in a lab coat.

"Sherlock, I'm glad I caught you. I want to introduce you to Molly Hooper. She's a new pathologist and usually works in the morgue, but perhaps you've seen her in the lab. I know you've had your differences with some of our other doctors, but I think Molly and you might hit it off. She's one of our brightest."

She blushed a little at the compliment and looked sheepishly at Sherlock.

He studied her. He _had_ seen her in the lab before. _Early 30s?_ She looked younger than she probably was if she was already through medical school. _Short stature. Long brown hair pulled back. Brown-eyes. Right-handed. Visibly nervous. Only child. Drops of coffee spilled on her sleeve. Went to a pub the previous night._

She looked progressively more nervous as he scrutinized her and made a small laugh before offering her hand to break the silence. Sherlock paused but shook it. She had a surprisingly firm grasp.

"Nice to meet you. Mike's told me a lot about you. You're a detective then?"

"Consulting. Yes."

Mike's mobile rang. "Have to take this, excuse me." He exited the room leaving Sherlock and Molly alone.

"Are you working on a case right now?" She walked closer to him and looked at the slide he was studying.

"Murder case. Trying to figure out if a suspect's alibi can be proved."

"So let me guess you're comparing the dirt found at the scene to that found on the suspect's shoes."

He leaned back on the stool and studied her more carefully. Molly had figured out what he was doing in one glance. Impressive. "Yes."

"Do you need some help? It's a slow day in the morgue. Good for people, bad for me." She laughed feebly at her own joke. He added '_morbid sense of humor' _into his mind palace.

He proceeded to tell her the details of the case and they worked together to discover that the suspect was indeed in a different area of London than the crime, proving his alibi to be true. It was only later at Baker Street when he realized that he finally found someone he could actually talk to and work with without getting agitated.

It was the beginning of their working relationship.

* * *

><p>From that moment, Molly was the only pathologist Sherlock would work with. There had been such an immediate trust formed right from the start that Sherlock barely even noticed. Until now.<p>

_Now_.

_Now_ that his ruin was evident.

_Now_ that death was a possibility.

_Now_ everything was suddenly clear.

There was only one person he could turn to. One person who could help him defeat Moriarty. Of course, Mycroft was already working on the case with him, but he needed someone to be there for him. Someone who counted. Someone who _mattered_.

He wouldn't blame her if she said no. Everything he had ever said to her raced through his brain. One of those instances he was thinking of was that awful Christmas party when he'd been so wrong. She'd entered the room with her face glowing with happiness that he felt could only have been the result of a new lover. He'd been so blind, so stupid. Never before had he felt such regret. He could criticize John, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade without a second thought. But with Molly, it had made him feel shameful. She had only ever been kind to him and the thought that he had hurt her was inconceivable. He tried to walk away like with any other time, but found he couldn't. He apologized but it didn't feel like enough. He promised himself he would never do that again.

He was never wrong. And yet Molly seemed to always surprise him. His feelings that day surprised him. It mattered what Molly felt. He never wanted to make that mistake again. He wouldn't.

* * *

><p>He waited for her in the lab. The same place where it all began.<p>

He knew her schedule down to the minute. The fact that he always showed up at Bart's when she was working was no accident. Whether Molly knew it or not, he always planned it that way. When the other pathologists complained about his presence there, Molly would gently explain to them in her quiet but determined way about his need to use the lab. She was always so warm, so caring. Always making everyone feel at ease and knowing how to diffuse the situation. How could he have ever underestimated her?

Her footsteps sounded in the hall. He looked at his watch. Exactly on time.

He moved towards the center of the dark room and faced away from the door so she couldn't see his face. What was this nervous feeling that had suddenly come over him?

She entered the room and went straight to a side office. He heard some papers rustling. After finding the ones she needed, she turned out the lights and just as he heard her approach the door to leave, he spoke.

_You're wrong, you know. You do count. You've always counted and I've always trusted you…_


	2. She

_Each way I turn, I know I'll always try__  
><em>_To break this circle that's been placed around me__  
><em>_From time to time, I find I've lost some need__  
><em>_That was urgent to myself, I do believe_

_Oh, you've got green eyes__  
><em>_Oh, you've got blue eyes__  
><em>_Oh, you've got grey eyes__  
><em>_And I've never seen anyone quite like you before__  
><em>_No, I've never met anyone quite like you before_

* * *

><p>Molly looked at the clock and was amazed to see it was already time to leave. Her back was stiff from being hunched over her desk and she raised her arms to stretch it. After her distraction with Sherlock, she had spent the remainder of the day catching up on paperwork. The time had gotten away from her.<p>

After debating for a moment whether to stay and work late, she decided against it. The day's lab analysis could just as easily be read at home in her comfortable pyjamas. Her muscles ached and she yearned for a hot bath. While stifling a yawn, she gathered her things, locked her office door behind her, and staggered down the hallway to the lab.

All day she had been thinking about her conversation with Sherlock. It hadn't been all that unusual, but that look he gave her...what _was_ that?

It had started out with Sherlock being his normal self: demanding her assistance with the lab work, forcing her to cancel her lunch date to help with his case, calling her "John". She didn't mind helping Sherlock with his work, in fact she enjoyed being a part of solving cases, but it was that last thing that got under her skin. Not that she had anything against John. It was just the fact that sometimes it didn't even seem like Sherlock was aware of her at all. She was just a body. Someone to assist him.

A spark had been ignited within her. She was sick of being ignored, sick of being taken for granted. Before she knew it, she was opening up about her father. Some part of her was hoping that Sherlock had a heart and could somehow relate. She let him know that she could see right through his façade. Something was up and she knew it. It wasn't just a kidnapping, it wasn't just a case, something about it was bothering Sherlock and she wanted to know what it was.

Sherlock had been surprised.

_What could I need from you?_

She didn't really know but she offered her help anyways.

_You could probably say thank you, actually._

He actually did. It had surprised her. Usually he would just say something snarky. And something about the look on his face was different, but maybe she had been imagining it. It was Sherlock after all.

She sighed. He would probably never change, but maybe, at the very least, he understood her better now. It felt good to release some of her feelings no matter what effect it might have.

The lab was quiet when she entered. After she retrieved the folder from the lab assistant's office, she turned out the lights and was about to exit when a familiar deep voice sounded from the middle of the dark room scaring her out of her wits.

* * *

><p><em>What do you need?<em>

_You_.

This was a Sherlock that Molly had never seen before. Vulnerable, exposed, emotional, sincere. Telling her she counted.

She _was_ right. This was not an ordinary case.

Sherlock swallowed and blinked away the tears in his eyes. "It's Moriarty. He's trying to destroy me and I have to let him."

"I-I…tell me what to do."

"I need you to believe in me. Even when the whole world doesn't. I need you to be there for me. Can you do that?"

* * *

><p>Molly was wired. She was on her third cup of coffee since her conversation with Sherlock. He was holed up in the lab and she was keeping an eye out for anyone that may be searching for him. Thankfully the pathology department was usually empty this early in the morning. She sat in her office with the door open, listening, waiting, nervously drumming her fingers on the desk. If anyone was headed to the lab, they would have to pass by her first.<p>

She tried practicing deep breathing exercises to calm herself. In and out. In and out. The plan was set. All they could both do now was wait.

After an hour of nearly wearing a hole in the carpet with worried pacing, Molly saw someone out of the corner of her eye pass by her door. She lurched forward and saw Phillip Anderson headed down the hall.

"Ander-I mean, Phillip, what are you doing here?"

"Oh Molly, have you seen, Sherlock?"

Here was her first test. She was going to have to get better at lying for Sherlock's sake.

"No. He wouldn't be here this early. Why what do you need?"

"He's under arrest for kidnapping, well he was before he escaped. The whole police force is looking for him."

Molly led him inside her office, not wanting to chance anyone else hearing.

"What? That's crazy." She hoped she sounded surprised.

"Turns out he created this whole Moriarty business. He's been leading us on this whole time!"

Molly laughed, this time being genuine. "Phillip, do you honestly believe that Sherlock would kidnap children and commit all these crimes just to show off?"

"Y-yes. I mean, I think so. Maybe. It's the only explanation for how he was able to solve those cases so quickly."

"Come on, Phillip, you've been around him enough to know he's that smart. No one could be that good of a fake."

"Well, I guess so."

He was glancing around her office and suddenly narrowed in at an object on her desk. He reached down and picked up a piece of paper.

"When was this taken?" He turned the paper over revealing a photograph of Sherlock and Molly.

Molly took the paper, forgetting that she had printed it out. "It's from Greg's party a few weeks ago." The police department had thrown a surprise party for Lestrade's thirtieth anniversary on the force. Molly had gone even though she was worried she wouldn't really know anyone. She was surprised and pleased when Sherlock had shown up. John had forced him to go and she was glad to have people to talk to.

At one point during the night, Greg had taken a picture of the two of them. Molly wasn't aware of it until Greg emailed it to her a few days later. It was the only picture she had of the two of them and she loved it. It was a candid shot. Molly had been sitting at the bar and Sherlock had come up behind her and said something into her ear making her laugh. The picture was taken the second after when she was in the middle of laughing and Sherlock was smiling at her.

Anderson was eyeing her suspiciously. She set the picture back on her desk.

"If I see him, I'll let you know."

As he was leaving, Anderson turned around, still with an odd look on his face, "Are you two…" He paused and shook him head. "Never mind, I'll see you later, Molly."

Molly breathed a sigh of relief when he left. As she peeked out the door to make sure he didn't head toward the lab, she saw something at the far end of the hallway that made her stomach turn. A dark figure was opening the door that led to the roof.

_Moriarty_.

He hadn't seen her.

Her heart raced as she texted Sherlock and Mycroft.

It was almost time.

* * *

><p><em><strong>I intentionally left the whole Moriarty plan vague. I think Sherlock was (at least partially) lying when he was explaining it to Anderson and Molly did a lot more than we'll probably ever know. I hope you like my theory about why Anderson knew Molly was involved and pictured them kissing. He's obviously seen something that we don't know about…<strong>_


End file.
